purpose of serving a company or private
employer. Mr. Maine meets the difficulty in this
way. He proposes that if a person, brought to
India by a company or a private employer,
become chargeable to the government as a
vagrant, within one year after his arrival, the
cost of deportation shall be recoverable from
the importer; for the reason that if any
European break down within so short a time,
whether from physical or moral causes, there
must have been carelessness or error in
selecting him, and the person who made the
mistake must pay for it. The bill includes
provisions for the good treatment of the loafer
during his voyage home, and the due, payment
to him of his money on landing. It
is also made compulsory on masters of sailing
vessels, to receive as passengers persons so
deported on the tender of proper payment.
These provisions are, to a great extent, taken
from analogous enactments of the British
parliament relative to the removal to their native
place of Lascars found vagrant in England,
and of English seamen left destitute in colonial
ports. There is further provision (intended
to meet certain difficulties in the way of criminal
justice over British subjects in the provinces),
to the effect that British subjects being
registered as vagrants, shall be subject to the
criminal code in all parts of the country equally
with Europeans generally, who are now under
the code. This is considered the more desirable,
as a not inconsiderable number of the
vagrant class are found to belong to foreign
nationalities.

These are the main provisions of the new
measure for dealing with loafers in India. It
treats them with a tenderness unknown to
legislation in England, where such classes are
concerned; and even when it forces them
back upon our poor laws, it at least gives them
a fair start. A judicious loafer, I should
think, might date the foundation of a new
career from the day when he was taken in
hand by the government.

The wretched man who came to me in my
verandah, so abject at first, and so soon
restored to his social status by brandy-and-water,
would at least have had a fair chance under
Mr. Maine's act. As it was, I doubt if he
ever did much good for himself or anybody
else. After waiting a sufficient time in the
station to find that his prospect of employment
came to nothing, he went his way. With
a little help which I gave him, he set up, after
passing the necessary examination, as a
vakeel, that is to say, an advocate who, in
inferior courts, is entitled to the same
privileges as a barrister in Calcutta. But I soon
heard that his old habits were too strong for
him, and that, although he possessed undoubted
abilities, clients would not trust him. I have
reason to believe that he eventually died of
delirium tremens in the China Bazaar. Under
Mr. Maine's act, he would have been sent back
to England; there, rescued from old associations,
and with money enough to keep him for a
month, he would have had one last chance of
retrieving his position. I by no means assert
that he would have turned it to good account;
but he would have had it.

THE MOUNTAIN BROOK.

IN THREE SONNETS

I.

HEAVEN help me! Whither would my dark thoughts
run!
I look around me, trembling fearfully;
The dreadful silence of the Silent One
Freezes my lips, and all is sad to see.
Hark! hark! what small voice murmurs " God made
me!"
It is the brooklet, singing all alone,
Sparkling with silver pleasure of its own,
And running, self-contented, sweet and free.
Brooklet, brightening from woods of fir,
Finding the open hill and flowing fleet,
Thou comest as a little messenger,
With shining wings and silver-sandal'd feet;
Faint falls thy music on a soul astir,
And, in a moment, all the world looks sweet!

II.

Whence thou hast come, thou knowest not, little brook,
Nor whither thou art bound. Yet wild and gay,
Pleased in thyself, and pleasing all that look,
Thou wendest, all the seasons, on thy way,
Whether the sunbeams shine, or lightnings play
Into thine azure eyes, thro' light or shade;
To think of solemn things thou wast not made,
But to sing on, for pleasure, night and day.
Such happy hearts are wandering, crystal clear,
In the great world where men and women dwell.
Earth's mighty shows they neither love nor fear,
They are content to be, while I rebel,
Out of their own delight dispensing cheer,
And ever softly whispering " all is well!"

III.

O sing, sweet brook, sing on, while in a dream
I feel the sweetness of the years go by!
The crags and peaks are softened now, and seem
Gently to sleep against the gentle sky;
Old scenes and faces glimmer up and die,
With outlines of sweet thought obscured too long;
Like boys that shout at play far voices cry;
O sing! for I am weeping at the song.
I know not what I am, but only know
I have had glimpses, tongue may never speak;
No more I balance human joy and woe,
But think of my transgressions, and am meek.
Father! forgive the child who fretted so,
For lo; a shower of grace is on his cheek!

LANDOR'S LIFE.

PREFIXED to the second volume of MR.
FORSTER'S admirable biography of WALTER
SAVAGE LANDOR,* is an engraving from a
portrait of that remarkable man when
seventy-seven years of age, by BOXALL.
The writer of these lines can testify that the
original picture is a singularly good likeness,
the result of close and subtle observation on
the part of the painter; but, for this very
reason, the engraving gives a most
inadequate idea of the merit of the picture
and the character of the man.

* Walter Savage Landor, a Biography by John
Forster, 2 vols. Chapman and Hall.